


The Katipo

by xLilarosa



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit RPF
Genre: Dean has really nice cast-mates, Filming on Set, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Whump, Male Slash, Medical Trauma, Mentions of Spiders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 03:29:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2333633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xLilarosa/pseuds/xLilarosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is injured on set. Normally that wouldn't be such a problem, except filming in the mountains makes things a little... difficult.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Katipo", noun: an endangered venomous species of spider native to New Zealand. It is a member of the genus Latrodectus, along with the Australian redback spider, and the North American black widow spiders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Bite

**Author's Note:**

> Katipo - an endangered species of spider native to New Zealand. It is a member of the genus Latrodectus, along with the Australian redback spider, and the North American black widow spiders.
> 
>  
> 
> First of all, this is my very first Hobbit fic. This is also my very first M/M fic. I am nervous. Please let me know if you see anything strikingly out of whack or character. And let me know if you like it. I would love to continue. I did a lot of research for this, as I want to be as accurate as possible. I'll get into the nitty gritty details later, because I don't want to spoil anything early on.
> 
> Anyway, as you know, this is purely fanfic. I like to whump, so this is going to be as whumpy as possible.. Enjoy;)

The day started like any other day on the Hobbit set in New Zealand. Having woken hours ago before sunrise for costume and makeup, Dean yawned widely. The movement stretched the silicone used for his moustache braids, and he thumbed the irritated skin.

“Eat your moustache again, Deano?” Aidan teased, walking up to him with his eyes crinkled in amusement. The man was never tired, and that never ceased to amaze him.

Dean huffed, stifling another yawn, and shifted in his heavy boots, watching the crew gather the remaining equipment into the helicopters. They were due any moment to fly over to the Rock and Pillar Range to film scenes traveling along the Dale Hills, a beautiful setting in the foothills of the Lonely Mountain. The rocky summit ridge was nearly inaccessible, so they were forced to take ten helicopters up to the range. 

Aidan nudged his shoulder playfully, and the slighter man felt a warmth in his stomach from the touch, “C’mon. We’re running to the beaches quick for a photo.” He nodded over to where Adam and Stephen were already making their way down the sandy path.

As they walked, he breathed in the cool ocean air, finally feeling his fatigue edge away. Aidan walked slowly beside him, their costumed shoulders only just touching as they followed the others. Dean would never admit it out loud, but his feelings for Aidan made him ache in every way possible; every moment the younger man was close, and even worse when he was away. It started as a crush the first day they met filming, a feeling so unfamiliar to him since his last boyfriend at uni years ago, but grew exponentially the closer they got. The way Aid always had a mug of coffee ready for him just the way he liked it as he got to make up every morning, the way he teased him and called him " _Deano_ ", the way he would always want to spend his free time with him - whether it was playing Xbox or even just exploring the sets they traveled to. The cast and crew knew them to be inseparable - where one was, the other always followed. The Irishman had become his best friend over the past year, which was why he wouldn't, _couldn't_ sacrifice their friendship. There was absolutely no way his friend was anything but straight; from how he swooned over Evangeline, and how he especially kept in constant, coy contact with his lady friends from back home. If he was to say anything, Dean was sure Aidan would be horrified.

The sun was just kissing the horizon, its red and golden hues glistening against the soft waves. Along the shore, they could hear the the dune grass wisping in the wind. Stephen's chuckling was what pulled Dean out of his thoughts as he reached down into his costume, and underneath his chin fat, removed his cell phone.

“Always have it handy!” He said.

The moment was perfect for a picture, so Dean grabbed for it, already seeing the potential with the glowing sky behind them. “Over there!” He pointed and backed up, “This sky is great.” 

With a bounding leap, Adam jumped on Aidan’s back, and the three of them posed for the picture with great heaps of laughter in the sand. 

“Stay right there,” Dean said, feeling his more natural, artistic self take over. The feeling lightened his spirits and he jogged over to the right, “Let me get a little higher.”

To the right of him against the dune grass was a larger outcropping of rocks and driftwood. He climbed it eagerly, his exhaustion and glum thoughts all now forgotten, not even minding the heavy pull of Fili’s gear and weapons. Perched on the top of the beach rock now, he turned towards his friends, grinning, and started snapping photos of them in their characters.

The warmth of the rising sun lit up Aidan's face as he moved to and fro with his friends, and it outlined the slim muscles beneath his coat. The sight of the bubbly younger man had Dean's heart twinge -

“ _Boys!_ ” They heard from grouping of the helicopters, “We’re leaving!”

Stephen made a "humph" noise as he tried uselessly to stand up from the sand in his Bombur costume, laden with thick fat pads. Aidan could barely stand, wheezing from laughter, as tiny Adam pulled and pulled upwards on Stephen’s arms.

With a small laugh, Dean started making his way down the rocks, but just as he was about to jump, his foot slid on a piece of damp driftwood. His pants slid up to his knee and, startled, he felt a nick against his skin. The sting had him jerking away with a quick inhale, and he brushed his calf carefully, expecting to feel splinters. However nothing was there and his skin was intact, so he assumed the wood had only lightly scratched his skin. Shrugging, he fixed his pant leg and jumped the rest of the way down to the sandy beach.

Aidan ran over to him. His happiness was infectious as he tossed the phone back to Stephen, who was now on his feet, “Wait! We need a photo before we go.”

Stephen grumbled and aimed the camera towards them, “Can’t forget about the lovebirds, can we?”

Dean heart thrummed rapidly in his chest and his cheeks broke out in a blush as Aidan kissed his cheek in an obvious pose for a picture.

“Now,” Aidan said as he pulled Dean in with an arm across his shoulders, “Let’s head back before Peter has our heads!”

* * *

 

As the boys slipped through the sand and back to the helicopters, a young _katipo_ remained silent against the driftwood, cleaning its fangs of the venom it just released. Once she was satisfied and clean, she scurried back to her web, and out of sight.


	2. The Discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter One had a huge haul over. I am not one to go back and edit stories after they’ve been posted, but I made a decision regarding the future of this story that needed to be addressed in that first chapter. If you haven’t read the updated version (I edited it Sunday), you may want to as it’s pretty imperative to the plot… however if you don’t have the time, you can always just check out the newly added tags to get a pretty good idea of what’s to come. ;)
> 
> Thank you for your feedback on chapter one. Wasn't going to post this so quick. But you inspired me! ... Also, I'm looking for a beta. Any out there? :o)

The fleet of helicopters took off one after the other, traveling away from the rising sun in the Eastern sky. Their destination was just over a half hour away to the mountains. Dean took that opportunity to watch the land below them pass by, the patchwork farmland and meadows were picturesque. The further they got away from the cities, the more quickly it all transformed into a more recognizable version of Middle Earth. Sitting across from him, Aidan was equally silent, also looking below.

Twenty minutes into their flight, however, the nick in his leg had become more heated and irritated. He rubbed his skin through his pants, wincing as that aggravated the scratch even further.

“You okay?” Aidan must have been watching him, because his curious voice suddenly came through over the headset. Adam, Graham, and James, also in the heli and wearing headsets, turned to look at him from the innocent question.

With a nod, he pulled his hand away, but the burning sensation still crept up his leg, “Must’ve hurt it on the beach.”

Aidan’s eyes darkened and his brows knitted in concern. Leaning forwards over his knees, he took Dean’s calf in his hand. He was pulling at his pant leg, trying to see the injury, when Dean interfered with a soft touch.

“I’m fine,” He said stubbornly, “Just a scratch.” 

But Aid was still staring at him, worry lines stretched taught around his eyes, and Dean felt his cheeks warm - the sight was slightly endearing over something so small.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to call for Lex?” Aidan persisted. His hand still hadn’t left his calf.

“Aid,” Dean laughed, reveling in the touch, “I’m fine. This is hardly something to worry Lex about.”

Charlie Lex was their key medic on set, the go-to guy for any type of abrasion, strain, medical emergency -- and even hangover remedy. The 6-foot-something, 250 pound gentle giant was a native of New Zealand, and had been a critical care flight paramedic for nearly twenty years before entering the film industry. Each morning as the cast and crew gathered he would place his roll out medical stand off to the side of the set, where he made available band aids, ice packs, ibuprofen, and the like. Often he would approach the hard working actors to make sure they were adequately hydrated and feeling well. His quiet, passive disposition was what made him so likable and approachable, but when the stunts and filming began, his face became solemn and he watched his team with sharp, dutiful eyes. The health and wellbeing of his crew was his passion and top priority.

Aidan seemed to take a moment before he accepted his friend’s words. Slowly, he withdrew his hand and settled back into his seat, a smile tugging at his lips, “If you say so.”

“Okay boys,” The pilot's chirpy voice came over their headsets, “Welcome to the Rock and Pillar Ridge!”

Not even noticing they had ascended so quickly into the mountain, the cast glanced out the window to see the ridge below. The very barren ground was surrounded by schist rocks and weird looking boulders, and above it, the clouds swirled in an ever-present, unusual formation. For the moment, Dean forgot about the ache in his leg and was fixed upon the beautiful surroundings as the helicopter landed, soaking in the view.

Not wanting to be within the cameras view, the helicopters took off back to base after dropping them off. Together, they all moved towards the large tent, nestled between three large boulders, which had already been erected by the crew. Inside, Peter was talking animatedly with the stunt coordinators and assistant producers, each of whom listened attentively. 

“Ahh, Aid! Deano! Just who I was looking for.” Through the crowd, Charlie Lex appeared, bearing an armful of water bottles, and passed one to each of them.

“Thanks Lex, I've been parched,” Aidan smiled, unscrewing the cap and taking a large drink.

Lex nodded, “I know how hot you guys get in those costumes. Make sure you are drinking enough. Lots of running today, I hear.”

“Okay mum,” Dean laughed. Lex winked and nudged his shoulder.

“Looks like Peter wants you guys. I’m going to finish passing these out. Shout if you need me, of course.”

Moving out of the tent and towards the open flat range, Peter was ushering the entire dwarven cast to their places to begin filming. Aidan and Dean followed at the back of the group, and the Irishman reached out for his friend’s elbow. He had been studying him closely since leaving the helicopters, and noticed the slight limp Dean had begun to reveal.

“Dean,” He said sincerely, “Let’s just have Lex take a look before we begin. You’re limping.”

Although he truly appreciated Aid’s fretfulness, and yes, the actions had his insides feeling all warm and tingly, there was no way he would delay filming over something like this. The older man huffed and fixed his gate so he was no longer shuffling along, but his movements still seemed stiff, “No thanks, I don’t feel like being teased mercilessly for a scratch,”

But the younger man sure seemed to know how to work him, because he put on his finest set of puppy dog eyes and blinked his long lashes.

“Fine, fine,” Dean laughed with a soft smile, because the look was completely irresistible, “I’ll get it checked during break if that'll make you happy.”

Aidan finally seemed satisfied and squeezed his arm. Before they reached the rest of the group who had stopped and were taking Peter’s directions, Aidan leaned in to whisper, “Good,” and planted a soft, lingering kiss by his ear, and then turned back to the director.

The move had Dean’s breath catch in his throat. Aidan had always been a very touchy feely guy, but that kiss had felt entirely different. Surely, he had meant it as a friendly gesture, but as Dean’s mind turned over and over again, the more he realized it wasn’t a joke; it was serious, purposeful – Aidan had kissed him and _meant it_. The realization had him entirely confused. 

Just recognizing he had toned out most of Peter’s speech, the blonde turned his attention - or, half-attention, as his mind was still reeling – back to the directions. That was one of the things the entire cast and crew liked most about Peter; he didn’t like to rehearse, and instead, liked to film the first take and just go from there. 

“Thorin, Dwalin, you first. Then I want Bifur, Bofur, Oin, Nori, Dori, Ori, following. Out further back, we’ll have Balin, Gloin, Fili, Kili, and last but certainly not least, Bombur. A nice jog will do it for now. Today we’re just shooting the scenic takes and aerial views, nothing entirely dramatic. Any questions?”

At the negative, Peter receded as the camera crew emerged and readied themselves.

“Places everyone… Ready? _Action_!”

By the third take, Dean was drenched in sweat and was no longer able to hide his limp. The irritation on his calf had transformed quickly into a sharp, shooting pain up past his knee. Each step from his heavy boot felt like a knife driving deeper into his muscles, and he slowed his pace some, trying unsuccessfully to put less pressure on his leg. Further and further Aidan and the rest of the dwarves ran ahead of him, and a sideways glance saw that he was nearly being passed by Bombur. 

Moments later, he had half a mind to think that this was more than just scratch when suddenly his muscles seized and brought him dropping down to his knee with a harsh, throaty gasp. The rocky ground cut his skin, slicing the thin fabric of his pant leg, and his body curled in on itself. The world around him abruptly tilted and blurred, and he couldn’t tell if his vision was going or if it was due to the sweat trickling in his eyes. Heart drumming against his ribcage, Dean felt a tightness in his chest and throat as he began to panic, couldn’t remember how he had come to be kneeling on the ground, panting in confusion over the sudden turn of events. The blurred figures of his friends kept jogging away in character, not realizing he had collapsed in a heap of heavy costume and weapons. He opened his lips to call out, but his throat was taut in anxiety, and all he managed was a strange high-pitched keen. 

“Cut! Cut!” He heard Peter’s booming voice over the megaphone, but it was as if his ears were stuffed with cotton. “Everything okay Dean?”

His breath caught in his throat as his wound throbbed again, sending spiking pain up to his groin. Nothing made sense to him, especially the terrifying inability to speak. The only thing he could manage was a small shake of his head, and he stared ahead searching for Aidan through his tunneling vision as if he would know what to do and how to help.

Aidan had no idea what had happened. Although Dean had been acting slightly sluggish since makeup, no doubt due to their early morning, the Kiwi was otherwise in good spirits. It was only when he heard Peter calling out to his friend during their traipse along the range, that Aidan realized Dean was no longer running beside him. With a quick glance around, he finally settled on Dean’s figure kneeling still in the dirt a ways back. Curiously, the blonde wasn’t returning Peter’s question, and so he began making his way firmly towards him. The closer he got, however, he saw Dean’s ashen, sweaty face come into view, and the moment Dean nearly collapsed face first (only just catching himself with his hands), Aidan was sprinting the rest of the way. 

“Dean?”

Just as he went to hold Dean’s pale cheeks within his palms, the steady thud of footfalls rushed behind them, and then Richard, Graham, Adam, and most of the cast and crew surrounded them.

“Dean?” Aidan had eyes only for him, “Talk to me. What happened?”

Dean’s face was cool and clammy in his hands, and his eyes shifted to Aidan and then passed him, as if he couldn’t focus.

“Aid,” He choked out.

Aidan's heart was pounding furiously, and he shouted over his shoulder, “Where’s Lex? Something’s wrong.”

“He’s coming,” Someone answered from the crowd, “He’s getting the medical bag.”

Aidan felt movement beside him, and then Richard was there, kneeling, catching Dean’s shoulders as he swayed unsteadily. The panicky feeling eased only slightly as the older, wiser man seemingly knew how to take over. Richard leaned down and in close to the small man, trying to catch his eyes. He spoke with a calm, soft tone, as if coaching a downed animal, “Alright Dean, let’s get you laying down, yeah?”

More of a statement than a question, Richard waited for Dean to give a sign of acknowledgement, and after a hesitated nod, he along with Aidan, guided him to the dirt below.

The crowd suddenly parted, and Charlie Lex was running through. He dropped down beside the group, and tossed his bag down to his side. Ignoring the others completely, he ripped off Dean's prosthetic hand and grasped the wrist, feeling the fluttering pulse beneath his fingertips. Charlie leaned over, studying him, and quickly assessed the actor’s ashen, sweaty complexion, his inability to focus, the tachypnea and tachycardia. Remembering that the actor hadn’t been ill earlier, and then comparing the current symptoms, he knew this was more than a sudden bout of the flu, or a sprain or even fracture – injuries commonly sustained while working on the outdoor sets.

“Dean, what happened?” 

The man looked just as confused as everyone else did, although his eyes wouldn’t focus on anyone in particular, instead staring blankly at the darkening sky above them. Clearly, the shock or pain, or both, was systemic; Dean was trembling and releasing pitiful moans, although he was unable to say exactly why.

Panic had quickly encompassed Aidan as a whole. Dean had seemed _fine_ this morning – even minutes ago when they landed on set. Besides the discomfort from his minor injury at the beach, his friend had been joking and laughing, and it deeply disturbed him how quickly his best friend had taken ill; it truly scared him even more not knowing _why_. Taking over for Lex, who was clearly not getting any response, Aidan was determined as he put a quivering hand on Dean’s forehead. Lex, sensing the distinct connection between the two and knowing the other man might get more of a response, abandoned his efforts and began digging through his medical bag.

“Deano,” Aidan murmured, petting back Fili’s sweaty wig, “Come on, sweetheart, look at me. Look at me, Dean.”

Finally, the blue eyes settled on him, this time a little more focused.

“Good, love, good. Tell me what happened. What hurts?”

Dean’s chapped lips parted and he panted, “Leg... Aid. Hurts.”

“Okay, okay. We’ll get this all sorted out,” Aidan reassured him as best he could, and he leaned down to kiss his forehead. With a quick downward glance, he saw Lex had dropped the blood pressure cuff and swiftly brushed his hands down Dean’s right thigh to his ankle, not feeling any obvious breaks or swelling. The moment he moved down to Dean’s left leg, however, the man was shouting and bucking against the touch.

“Richard,” Lex said.

Richard needn’t any more direction than that, and he caught the leg that was kicking out by the ankle, then also holding it down by the knee.

Ignoring Dean’s cries and struggles to get free, Lex made his movements quick and deliberate; in one moment he had Fili’s boot unlaced, and in the next, he was slicing up the pant leg, avoiding Richard’s grasp, with scissors from the medical kit. Once at mid-thigh, he parted the material; the wound at Dean’s calf stuck out dramatically against the pale skin.

“Shit,” Lex swore under his breath, studying the injury. At the man’s inner calf was a large, purpling and swollen patch of skin; the inflammation had begun to spread proximally towards his knee. Dread filled his stomach, because what most concerned him were the two tiny punctures at the center of the wound. Beneath him, Dean moaned deliriously. Lex turned to group surrounding them and shouted with urgency, “We need a medevac! Get it here now!”


	3. The Storm

_Ignoring Dean’s cries and struggles to get free, Lex made his movements quick and deliberate; in one moment he had Fili’s boot unlaced and off, and in the next, he was slicing up the pant leg, avoiding Richard’s grasp, with scissors from the medical kit. Once at mid-thigh, he parted the material; the wound at Dean’s calf stuck out dramatically against the pale skin._

_“Shit,” Lex swore under his breath, studying the injury. At the man’s inner calf was a large purpling and swollen patch of skin; the inflammation had begun to spread proximally towards his knee. Dread filled his stomach, because what most concerned him were the two tiny punctures at the center of the wound. Beneath him, Dean moaned deliriously. Lex turned to the group surrounding them and shouted with urgency, “We need a medevac! Get it here now!”_

“What?” Aidan asked breathlessly, his face drawn in panic when he looked up from Dean, “What is it?”

Lex turned back to Dean’s calf, leaning in close to inspect the wound, palpating the tender skin despite the man’s hoarse cries and attempts to pull away. “Spider bite,” he said, his demeanor was extremely perplexed, “Although New Zealand doesn’t have any spiders capable of doing this in these parts – only along the beaches…”

Aidan stared at Lex’s intense, careful inspections. Then, Lex’s words hit him and his breath caught, only just remembering their trip to the ocean that morning. “Beaches? Oh no…”

Lex looked up at him sharply. The look startled Aidan, who was not used to seeing such intensity from the usually calm and quiet man.

“We- We took pictures at the beach this morning. Right before loading the heli’s.”

Silence. Lex’s blue eyes seemed to pierce him as he absorbed the news and its frightening implications. He took a deep breath, seeming to recompose himself, and nodded, “Okay... Okay. We’re going to get off this mountain, and he’ll be fine once he gets the antivenom.”

“Lex!” A man shouted as he parted through the crowd that had gathered around them. Aidan’s gentle caresses along Dean’s forehead stilled, and he studied the man – one of the assistant producers – as tension rolled off him in droves. He held a large satellite phone in his hand, tipped away from his face, his voice distressed, “Copters can’t come until the weather clears. Not enough visibility." 

“ _What_?” Lex was suddenly furious, and as he stood, his giant frame towered over the man. He grabbed the satellite phone and rushed away from the group.

Aidan, who had only had eyes for his friend below, moved his gaze upwards at the sky. He hadn’t noticed the darkening skies replace the white, swirling clouds and foggy wisps along the mountainside. The air felt heavy with moisture and had begun lightly misting; a low groan of thunder shook the desert ridge.

“Aid?” A voice below him murmured. The Irishman immediately looked at Dean, whose eyes were sluggishly trying to stay open. Shock and pain had already begun to take their toll on the Kiwi, whose body trembled in small, weak bursts.

Aidan forced a smile down at him, thumbing along his cheekbone soothingly, “It’s okay.”

The strained reassurances clearly had no effect through the fog of pain, however. Another jolt radiated from his wound, his leg and now abdominal muscles spasming excruciatingly, so much so that he couldn’t draw in a breath. He threw his head back, digging it into the dirt with a sharp cry.

“Dean,” Aidan said, his voice wavering. 

Richard carefully released Dean’s now limp leg and moved up next to Aidan, seeing the situation begin to deteriorate even further. “Easy, easy,” He said, sliding his hand underneath his head, protecting it as it tossed back in forth against the rocky earth.

“Breathe, Dean. Slow breaths.”

Another small cry, and finally, a shaky inhale.

Aidan sensed movement in the crowd, and he watched as Lex came over them, kneeling at his previous position, his demeanor carefully controlled. “I need people over at the main tent making sure it’s weather sturdy. Air Traffic Control said we’re in for some heavy winds and thunderstorms – ” 

Aidan froze, feeling a cold pit settle in the pit of his stomach. “No…” 

“ – and I need someone to make a makeshift bed in the center on the ground. Pile it with blankets and whatever extra clothes or costumes we have. Do it now, we need to get him in there before the weather gets worse – ” He watched as the majority of the crew rushed towards their camp, preparing the site. Above them, the skies were nearly black now, blocking out the majority of the sun. Winds swirled, bringing along with them a few rain drops, which splashed their unprotected skin.

“Lex – ” Aidan whispered, not quite believing what he was hearing, because if they were truly stuck here, what did that mean for Dean?

“Aidan,” Lex finally turned to him, his eyes pinched in the corners with stress, “They can’t get a copter here until visibility has cleared. It would be too dangerous to land and take off with him or anyone in it.”

“But… But what – ”

Lex put a steady hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him. “I’m going to call in to Dunedin Hospital, and they're going to direct us what to do. I have fluids and pain meds, and we can make him comfortable until we can get him out of here. We’ll be contacting the ATC every 15 minutes until they decide it’s safe enough for the pilots to come.”

The fair attempt at comfort didn’t faze him, though, and he was left with the staggering fear that first aid wouldn’t be enough. The hot, swollen skin around the bite mark was spreading, and Dean wouldn’t stop _moaning_ from the agony. Band-Aids and fluids certainly couldn’t be the cure all here, and who knows how long they were going to be stuck.  _It just didn’t seem enough_ …

His thoughts must have muddled over the next conversation, because the next thing he knew Richard and Graham moved him out of the way to lift Dean’s shoulders and support his back, while Charlie Lex cradled his legs, being careful with the hurt limb. Before he knew it, they were moving quickly towards the tent site, and Aidan was left stumbling after them, a feeling of lightheadedness washing over his senses the second he stood. It seemed as if he hadn’t had a moment to even process the frightening turn of events, let alone determine how to deal with it all. The panicked state that had washed over him since Dean had collapsed had left him feeling dazed; the only thing he knew was _Dean_ , and the horrifying feeling that he might lose his best friend.

Dean’s arm slipped out from between his and Graham’s body, swinging limply as they moved collectively towards the makeshift bed underneath the tent. Aidan had just a spare thought to realize Costuming had piled Thorin’s and Dwalin’s enormous fur coats on the dirt ground, and off to the side, he recognized his and Dean’s spare long layers, which were left in case more blankets were needed. Gently, the three of them placed Dean’s trembling body onto the fur, and Aidan dropped down, taking his place back at his head. Lex, Richard, Graham, and James also knelt down to surround him, and they waited with baited breath for Lex’s instructions.

“Get him out of his costume.” Lex said immediately as he began to dig through his trauma bag, removing the IV supplies and fluids, his blood pressure cuff, stethoscope, and other necessary supplies, placing them on one of the spare coats at his side. With a pen taken from his shirt pocket, he leaned over Dean’s leg and carefully traced the inflammation of the wound with the black ink. A quick glance to his watch, and then he wrote down the time at the border.

“James,” Lex said as he stuffed the pen back in his pocket. He grabbed a set of gloves, a few gauze pads, and antiseptic wash from the pile at his right, “I need you to put these gloves on and wash the wound. Then,” He grabbed the small instant cold pack from the ground, and cracked it. “Hold this against it.”

Dean was oblivious to the chaos above him, his head turning against the soft fur of Thorin’s coat. Burning pain was shooting up his leg, settling deep within his groin and lower abdomen. The pain was so systematically overwhelming that he began to feel nauseous, and he weakly moaned, “Sick.”

“Dean, let us do all the work okay?” Graham, the largest of the group (and even larger still dressed as Dwalin), was all gentleness as he quietly moved Aidan out of the way, positioning himself to lift up the smaller man, “We’re going to get you a little more comfortable.”

Graham worked his hands underneath Dean’s flaccid upper body and lifted, easily taking the weight of the small Kiwi. The sudden movement into a sitting position took its toll on Dean’s weak body; the little remaining color in his face drained, his lips near-white and parted through feeble gasps of breath. The world tilted through his eyes and nausea gripped him so intensely, that the next thing he knew he was dry heaving. His head dropped back against Graham’s shoulder, unable to support itself any longer.

“Easy, you’re okay,” Graham murmured, taking over the role of comforter, and kneaded his shoulders and back.

Aidan followed Richard’s suit in beginning to strip Dean of his costume, feeling suddenly out of place having been removed his place at Dean’s head. Richard eased off Fili’s heavy coat, tossing it to the side, and next came off the long leather vest and hooded undershirt. Together, him and Aidan worked off the padded fat suit, bracers, and his one remaining prosthetic arm, and then finally, slid the plain white tee (wet and hot from Dean’s fevered body) over his head, leaving his small, heaving chest bared naked. Tenderly, Graham settled him back down against the furs, ready to turn him on his side should he actually start vomiting.

Slowly, Dean’s eyes opened again, and it only took a few moments of staring up at Graham before his breath starting speeding up; a new wave of panic encompassing him whole. 

“No, no, no, he’s right here, lad.” Graham gripped Aidan’s shoulder with a heavy hand and pulled him into Dean’s view. He moved out of the way, letting Aidan take his place, and the two made eye contact, Dean’s gaze rattled.

“Hey,” Aidan whispered, his voice wavering. Unnerved at best, Aidan felt suddenly at a loss as how to comfort his best friend, whose condition was steadily waning, deteriorating. He took in a deep, unsteady breath; the lightheadedness from earlier threatening to rear its ugly head once more.

Another deliberate, slow breath, and he managed to whisper, “I’m here. You’re doing just fine.”

He spared a glance down at James (his Bofur hat tossed aside), who very carefully was wiping the bite with antiseptic, his face also pale and tight. Beside him, Lex tossed the pen and paper over to Adam, who was standing anxiously off to the side and was watching them, “Write down what I tell you to.”

Adam nodded hastily, the youngness of his features now pronounced more than ever as he stared wide-eyed.

With quick movements, Lex took Dean’s bared arm and turned it outwards from his side. He wrapped the blood pressure cuff around him, and within seconds had a reading that he shouted over to Adam. Next he took Dean’s wrist in his right hand, counting the rapid beats beneath his fingertips, and brought his left hand upwards, using his watch to determine the pulse rate.

“Hey,” Lex said once he was done, directing his words down to Dean, “Look at me, bud.” 

When Dean wouldn’t remove his gaze from Aidan, Lex softly patted his cheek to get his attention, “Look at me.”

Slowly, the blue, unfocused eyes tracked to his face.

“Good. What’s your name?” Lex asked. After determining the vital signs, it was essential to assess his level of consciousness.

With a hard swallow around his dry tongue, he croaked out, “Dean.”

“Good, Dean. Do you now where you are?”

There was a long pause as he looked at Lex, tracing his features with his eyes, then looked back up at Aidan, then upwards towards the canvas of the tent above them. Clearly confused and not processing the question, Lex asked him again.

“No,” He finally answered.

Lex grabbed the stethoscope by his side, placed it in his ears and then positioned the bell against Dean’s heaving rib cage. Carefully, he used the tool to auscultate each lobe, studying the uneven gasps, before he moved the bell down to his abdomen, pausing in all four quadrants. Satisfied, he asked: “Do you know what day it is?”

Another pause, a whine of pain, then: “No.”

“Do you know what happened?” Lex tossed the stethoscope aside and used his fingertips to palpate Dean’s abdomen gently, starting at the lymph nodes in his groin, and moving upwards, pressing deeply in certain areas.

Dean groaned loudly, tensing his belly as his back arched, as if trying to escape the agony from the concentrated examination. “No. Hurt.”

“Yeah,” Lex sighed and pulled away, “You hurt your leg, bud, looks like you got bit by a spider. You’re under the set tent; we’re still at the Rock and Pillar Range. We’re working on getting you out of here to bring you to the hospital. Do you understand?”

A hitched breath and then a whimper escaped the Kiwi. Having lost the man’s attention, Lex abandoned his efforts and grabbed for the satellite phone by his side. Knowing the nearest hospital by heart (a duty of his profession)– and also having reported to them many times for other, less serious cast member’s injuries and illnesses – he dialed the phone number. Hitting the speaker button and tossing the phone onto the ground freed up his hands, Lex took Dean’s wrist to monitor the rapid pulse.

“Dunedin Hospital, this is Charlie Lex calling in, critical care paramedic working on a film set at the Rock and Pillar Range. I have a 35 year old male, bitten by a spider an undetermined amount of time ago, likely within the last 3 hours. Bite is on the left calf, swelling and inflammation spreading proximally now up past his knee. Rapid progression of symptoms. Wound has been flushed, and is now elevated with cold packs… “ 

Aidan listened intently. It was as if Lex’s words only confirmed the quickly downward spiraling condition of the man beneath his hands. The realization terrified him.

“… Patient is conscious, alert and oriented times one. He is experiencing severe pain. Abdomen is tight with diffuse guarding.” Lex reached up and grabbed the tightly gripped paper from Adam’s hands, “Blood pressure is 150/105, heart rate is 120, respirations 28 and shallow…”

His heart was pounding in his ears now, and Aidan could literally feel the blood begin to drain from his head. A cold sweat broke out over his body.

“… Lungs are clear. Temp 99.3. Patient is experiencing nausea and has been dry heaving. IV has been established and we’re running fluids at 150ml/hour.”

“10-4. What’s your ETA?”

A pause. “Due to inclement weather we’re unsure of evacuation time. We’re waiting on the all-clear from the ATC, could be hours,” and then Lex’s voice dipped, “Please be advised patient was at the sand dunes this morning… It’s very possible he was bit by a _katipo_.”

There was a moment before the physician on the other side responded, clearly shocked by the admission. Spider bites were rare in New Zealand, the country having only a handful of spider species to begin with. _Katipo_ bites, however, were nearly unprecedented on both the North and South Islands, and many thought the spiders to just be legend.

“Charlie,” All pretenses were dropped by the physician, “If your patient has been bit and is experiencing such rapid progression of symptoms – ”

“I know.” Charlie said sharply. Aidan studied his reddened face, sensing the concern there. “Dunedin, are there any other measures you suggest I take until we can be evacuated?”

Beneath them, Dean whimpered as his leg muscles seized again. With weak and uncoordinated hands, he tried to paw at the wound with quiet, heaving sobs, but Richard caught his hands easily. It didn’t take much effort to restrain him, and with a quiet, calming voice he said, “Relax. Just relax, you’re going to be just fine.” 

Aidan’s sight was slowly tunneling, blackness creeping along the edges of his vision.

“Do you have any benzodiazepines or opioids?” The doctor asked from the satellite phone.

Knowing the prescribed drugs within trauma kit by heart, Lex answered quickly, “Yes. We have Diazepam, Lorazepam, Midazolam, Methocarbamol, Fentanyl and Morphine.”

“Administer Methocarbamol 500mg intramuscular injection for the muscle contractions, and Morphine 10mg IV push for the pain. Continue IV fluids at 150ml/hour and if your patient begins to show signs of shock, keep it wide open. Monitor and report vitals closely, and watch for signs of respiratory depression, anaphylaxis and toxicity. Get him here as fast as you can.”

“10-4.” Lex muttered, ending the call, and he was immediately digging through his medical kit for the locked box of vials.

“Aidan?”

Aidan was staring at the dirt ground, his face sweaty and nearly colorless. His hands had slipped from Dean’s hair and hung limply at his sides. Through ears that seemed stuffed with cotton, he could barely hear Richard calling out his name.

“ _Jesus, get him laying down!_ ”

Richard’s forceful grip was upon him, heaving him upwards so they could take a few steps away, and then down into the dirt.

Things became blurry then, because the next thing he knew, he was staring at the ceiling of the tent, with Richard holding his legs by his ankles high in the air. The position immediately cleared vision, and in the next few seconds, the quick thudding in his chest resumed to a more normal, steady rate. Aidan took a deep breath and looked up at his friend. Richard – still clothed as high and mighty Thorin – looked down worriedly, and used a calming hand to brush Kili’s wig from his face.

“Richard?” 

“Just breathe, Aidan. Take some slow, deep breaths for me.” Richard’s voice was soothing and unnervingly calm and he rubbed Aidan’s thigh.

Shakily, he took in a slow breath. Off to the side, he heard a high pitched keening, and it took him a second to recognize who it was - then, as if suddenly remembering his best friend, Aidan struggled to get up to his elbows.

“Aidan, _lay down_.” Lex’s stern voice came from a few feet away, “Adrenaline dump. You’re in shock. You’re going to be fine, but I need you to lay down for a few minutes.”

“No – ” Aidan’s voice was desperate as his fought Richard’s hands; Dean’s cries were getting louder, more hysterical. He needed to be with his best friend, needed to touch him, calm him; Dean – the most beautiful, important man to him – was _dying_ and he was lying on the ground like a damned _damsel in distress_.

“ _Aidan_ ,” Richard barked, “Lay down.”

The fight left him abruptly, leaving his fatigued body to flop against the ground. Weakly he said, “I need to sit with him.”

“No, you need to lay here because you’re not going to be any use to him passed out cold.”

Beside them, Lex continued with his ever-steady movements, working around the whimpering, feeble body.

“Please…” Thoroughly exhausted, Aidan felt hopeless tears gather at the corners of his eyes, “Please, Rich. I love him… I need to know he’s going to be okay. _Please_.”

Richard let go of his legs, and settled beside Aidan, moving to hold his shoulder and knead the quivering muscles. He remained silent, though, and that’s when Aidan’s world shattered.


	4. The Deterioration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just love getting your reviews. Thank you! You keep me going!

_“Please…” Thoroughly exhausted, Aidan felt hopeless tears gather at the corner of his eyes, “Please, Rich. I love him… I need to know he’s going to be okay. Please.”_

_Richard let go of his legs, and settled beside Aidan, moving to hold his shoulder and knead the quivering muscles. He remained silent, though, and that’s when Aidan’s world shattered._

 

By the time Aidan crawled back over to Dean, his sobs had lessened but instead had become awful, low keens in between hitched breaths. While waiting for the pain medication to take effect, Lex and Graham had worked quickly together to remove Fili’s remaining boot, socks, his wig, moustache, and then covered his middle with a blanket – small attempts to try to make him more comfortable.

Still, even without his costume, Dean looked nothing like himself. The man was pale – ashen, almost grey in color. His eyes were sunken and half lidded, the pupils beginning to dilate from the drug just injected into his body. Wet tear tracks trailed down the sides of his face, disappearing in his hair. His bared chest heaved with each inhale, each rib noticeably expanding with an incredible effort to take in oxygen. Aidan studied his friend, feeling incredibly nauseous and still slightly lightheaded. In every way, Dean looked like death.

“Help me get him on his side.” Lex said to no one in particular, but Aidan, Richard, and Graham all moved to support their friend’s body, rolling him onto his side together as one. The change in position had Dean gagging and dry heaving again; and when nothing came up, he was left breathless and completely void of strength. Limply, he lay as the others continued to support his small body. Lex silently moved the blanket away and tugged down the waist of his pants to expose his bottom. He grabbed an alcohol wipe at his side and tore the packet hurriedly with his teeth; then, after wiping it across Dean’s skin, he gave a quick injection into the muscle. Besides a whining exhale, Dean made no other effort to protest, and Lex pulled up his pants and placed him back on his back.

“That’ll help with your muscle contractions, Dean. You’ll be feeling better in no time, I promise,” Lex turned towards one of the producers standing behind him, “Has the ATC given us any time yet?”

“Just called,” He said, “They’re watching the radar, the storm should be passing within the next three hours.”

Lex blew out a frustrated breath, “We don’t have that time.” He stood up, and walked quickly over to Peter, who had been at the front of the gathered crew, watching worriedly and intently, “Is there _any_ way we can get a truck or ATV out here? We need to move him now.”

Peter hesitated and pursed his lips tightly, before getting out his own phone, “Let me see what I can do.”

Ignoring the conversation above them, Aidan kept up his shaky reassurances to the blond. Hands on his face, hair, cheeks, chest – Aidan couldn’t stop touching him, and in a stark realization, he knew the constant contact was just as much a comfort to him, as it was to Dean.

 _And to think that just this morning they were joking, laughing, healthy – normal_.

Dean was moaning again, and fought the hands keeping him down as he tried to curl up desperately on his side. The meds hadn’t even begun to touch his pain, and his muscles seized in agony, from his foot all the way to settle deep in his groin and belly.

“Sit behind him,” Richard muttered to him. Confused, but always one to follow Rich’s directions (perhaps because he reminded him so much of his father), Aidan sat at Dean’s head, his legs on either side of the man’s body.

“Let’s try this,” Richard said, and with sturdy hands, he heaved Dean up from under his shoulders and placed him against Aidan. In this position, Dean lay against his chest, his head nestled into the crook of his neck and shoulder. Aidan quickly encompassed him, holding him steadily around his middle with his forearms. It was from here that he could feel Dean’s hot and sweaty body, the finite shivers running through him – how _small_ he truly felt. Swallowing the panic and fear that gripped him, Aidan only held him tighter.

“You are going to give me gray hairs, you know that?” Aidan’s voice was shaking when he ducked his head and whispered into his ear, “I’m well before my gray haired age, and in the past year since I’ve known you, I swear I’ve grown at least five.”

Lex returned, kneeling back at Dean’s injured leg, then mouthed up to Aidan, “Keep him distracted.”

The small encouragement was all Aidan needed, and he hitched him up to settle a little more comfortably in his arms, “Remember the day we filmed up in the trees with the fake wargs shaking the trunk? You insisted Peter swing the tree even faster to look better for filming… And of course you fell out and hit yourself on a branch on the way down. I think that was the day I got my first gray hair. And remember – ” Lex was palpating the wound again, inspecting the inflammation which had grown significantly passed the border he’d drawn not even twenty minutes ago, and Dean cried out, “Shh. And - and remember when we filmed the…” His voice was getting rougher by each passing second as he fought back the overwhelming need to cry. Finally, his voice broke when he said, “God, from the moment you walked on set, it was _you._ I can’t lose you, Deano. You fight this with everything you got.”

“Aid…”

“I know,” Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes, “I promise you’ll feel better soon. Just relax against me.”

Dean’s trembling hand reached upwards, and caught Aidan’s shoulder, pawing at the leather jerkin of Kili’s jacket, “Feel sick.”

“Lex,” Aidan turned to him, pleading, “Why aren’t the drugs working yet?”

A deep frown worried the man’s face as Lex studied the blond below them. If possible, his complexion had become even more pallid, the skin beginning to cool and grow clammy. On instinct, he grabbed his stethoscope and listened to Dean’s bared chest with a fierce intensity, pulling back after a few seconds, “Dammit. He’s arrhythmic. Adam, toss me that phone.”

Lex dialed Dunedin’s number, holding the phone up by his shoulder as he continued to hold Dean’s wrist and count the pulse, “Dunedin, Charlie Lex calling back. Patient is now arrhythmic, 130 beats per minute. He has increased pain and nausea, despite the narcotic and muscle relaxer given ten minutes ago. Inflammation has now spread almost two inches since it was last measured approximately twenty minutes ago – ”

Dean took that moment to suddenly lurch forward, groping and pushing at James’ hand, which still held the ice pack to his elevated leg. Aidan quickly grabbed his wrist and pulled him backwards again, easily restraining the distressed movements, “Hey, hey, leave that alone."

Dean couldn’t relax though, twisting weakly in his grasp, “Hur’s. Wha’ happen’?”

Lex dropped the phone to the dirt after pressing the speaker button, helping Aidan gently restrain him, and he added to the physician, “Mental status beginning to deteriorate.”

“Lex,” The physician on the line said, “Go ahead and administer another 2mg of Morphine IV push. Keep your saline wide open. He’s likely going into shock. Any word on your extraction time?”

“Negative. Likely up to 3 or more hours until the storm clears.”

“10-4. Monitor vitals closely, and keep us updated with any more changes.”

With quick hands, Lex pulled out another vial and administered the additional narcotic, and then adjusted the flow on the saline bag. Knowing the smaller man was quickly heading towards shock, he grabbed one of the fur lined coats tossed to the side, and wrapped it carefully around Dean’s exposed body. Frustration coiled deep within him, knowing that he could only maintain the supportive therapy of IV fluids and warmth until actual help arrived. Almost knowingly, Aidan adjusted the coat further around Dean’s shoulder, and wrapped his arms even tighter around that and the small body.

Just as quickly as he’d begun to resist the arms around him, Dean abruptly quieted and lay lifelessly against his friend. A combination of the trauma to his body and the effects of the drugs left him spinning, confused, and depleted, as if he no longer had any control over his body.

“Help,” He managed to say. Weakly, his right foot dug into the dirt, “Help.”

“Easy, Deano.” Aidan held his face against Dean’s, and said into his ear, “You’re going to be okay.”

“Dizzy. Aid.”

Richard, who still knelt beside Aidan, leaned over and brushed the blond’s sweaty hair back, “Shh. Relax, Dean.”

“No,” He moaned. Another wave of nausea and lightheadedness washed over him. His heart pounded furiously and erratically in his chest, and the air seemed to thin out, leaving him wheezing for breath.

Feeling the sudden change in his friend’s breathing patterns, almost as if he was hyperventilating, Aidan held him tighter, rocking him. “No no no no, breathe, love.”

Above them, Lex was on satellite phone again, shouting at the ATC; he blocked the man out the moment he heard the word ‘ _dying’_ , though, and squeezed his eyes shut tight, “No, you’re fine, you’re fine, just breathe.”

Semi-conscious now, Dean’s eyes only parted half way, his gaze fixed, as his chest heaved unsteadily in a poor attempt to draw in more oxygen. Aidan’s voice was a mantra in his ear, which he heard, but couldn’t comprehend.

“ _… don’t you dare give up, don’t you dare give up_ …”

Voices drifted around him, hands touched him, held him.

“ _– they’re sending in the Coastguard –_ ”

“ _– no time –_ ”

“ – _don’t leave me_ – “

“ – _Breathe!_ – ”

He felt the hard thudding of his heart weaken, stutter. Then, his vision blackened. Silence.


	5. The Rescue

“Don’t you _dare_ give upon me, don’t you _dare_ …” Aidan’s voice was a mantra as he rocked Dean in his arms, clutching the small body as the man finally lost his battle with consciousness. Even limp, his body still heaved for oxygen, making terrible gasping noises.

Beside him, Richard kept a white-knuckled grip on Dean’s arm.

“They’re sending in the Coastguard,” Lex explained as he dropped back down to the ground, tossing the phone aside, “The ATC diverted them from a training mission off the coast, they’ve had a lot of experience with poor weather conditions.”

“There’s no time,” Richard’s voice was deep and scratchy, eyes wet.

“It’s all they can do,” Lex fired back with just as much distress, “It’s our only option.”

Aidan had blocked them out, squeezing his eyes shut tight as he pleaded, “ _Don’t leave me_ , you can’t.”

In his arms, Dean’s breath paused, stuttered.

“ _Breathe_!”

James looked up from his position at Dean’s leg, still holding the ice pack tight to his calf, “There has to be something we can do.”

“We’ve done everything,” Lex was openly devastated, no longer able to hide the deep facade as he had earlier. Dean was more than just a patient, he was a close friend to everyone involved, “We can only wait.”

His words settled and they all reeled from the shock that there was truly nothing else they could do as the lethal venom took hold over his fragile body. By now, he was consumed by teeth-rattling tremors and drenched in cold sweat.

“Aidan,” Lex said after a few moments, gently putting his hand on the man’s shoulder, “I’m gonna have you lay him down. He’ll breathe easier on his back.”

Aidan’s head jerked up from where it had been resting against Dean's, pale faced. Instinctively, his arms tightened around the body against him. His brown eyes were blown from the adrenaline, and he looked at Lex, terrified as if he had hurt his friend just by holding him.

Sensing Aidan’s panic, Lex quickly shook his head, “You didn’t hurt him, but I bet it’ll ease some of the strain.”

With great care, Richard, Lex, and Aidan lowered Dean down to the furs on the ground. In this position, his chest was able to expand further, and his gulps for air quieted some.

“That’s it. Good job, Dean,” Lex said approvingly. He took out his stethoscope and held the bell to Dean’s bare chest, listening with earnest, “Much better.”

The next fifteen minutes grew more strained as they collectively watched Dean's failing body. Mistaking the chopper blades for the wind and thunder at first, they were stunned to see the copter suddenly lowering steadily towards the ground.

Richard let out a shaky breath, relief pouring over him, “Thank God.”

The team watched as two men immediately jumped to the ground, in full gear and lugging large bags of equipment on top of a litter. James and Richard moved back to make room as they dropped to either side of Dean, however Aidan remained in place, eyes dark and possessive. The men didn’t say anything if they noticed, and – immediately seeing the gravely injured patient below them – didn’t bother with introductions.

“What’ve we got?”

Lex knelt at Dean’s feet, and didn’t hesitate to report the disturbing news, “He was bit by a spider here,” he turned the blonde’s calf which had been elevated on a costume pack, exposing the inflammation and swelling, “about 4-5 hours ago. Most likely a _katipo_. Symptoms progressed rapidly, he’s just become dyspneic and unconscious. We’ve been in contact with Dunedin Hospital – he's been give a total of 12mg of Morphine, and 500mg of Methocarbamol.”

The coastguards worked together in perfect tandem; it was clear they had worked many years and many cases together, as they seemed to predict each other’s movements and what needed to be done. They tossed the blankets aside, leaving him bare and exposed. One listened to Dean’s heart and lungs briefly with a stethoscope, while they other pulled out an oxygen mask and tubing, connected it to the portable oxygen tank, and fit it quickly over Dean’s mouth and nose. Immediately, the mask fogged in quick succession, displaying an erratic pattern of breathing.

"He's arrhythmic," the medic said as he pulled away the stethoscope.

Lex nodded, "He's been for the past 20 minutes or so. Last pulse was 130."

“Yeah he's up to 140, let’s wrap and run. We can get the rest of the vitals in the air,” Together with the help of Aidan and Lex, they turned Dean onto his side, positioned the metal litter behind him, and then placed him back flat.

The medic looked pointedly at Lex, “Room for two.”

Lex shook his head, “I’ll stay with the group, make sure they’re okay until we can get off this mountain. Aidan, Richard go.”

Aidan caught his eye, feeling a relief settle deep within him, but he didn’t have time to give more than a thankful nod before he was rushing off after the Coastguards, who held Dean’s stretcher between them.

The copter was taking off into the air before he knew it, and Aidan sat ramrod straight in the seat next to Dean. Richard sat next to him, silent, but the warm, sturdy pressure against him leg and arm was grounding. Taking carefully measured breaths, he adjusted the headset the medic had tossed him, and listened to the chatter between him and the pilot.

“We’ve got an hour to get to Dunedin. Weather’s not looking too bad, but I’ll say if you need to brace yourselves.”

The medic nodded but didn’t give any other indication of acknowledgement, perhaps because he was working so methodically to get Dean settled. The man pulled out leads and wires, placing the sticky pads against the blond’s bare chest. They connected to an EKG machine next to Aidan’s head, and he watched with interest as the green lines suddenly came to life – jumping quickly at a staggering 148 beats per minute. The medic stared only for a moment at the machine before he quickly reached for another bag of saline and inserted another large bore IV into Dean’s opposite forearm.

Aidan wanted to ask so many questions, but his mouth felt dry, and when he went to speak, he found himself dumbstruck. He realized he felt just as helpless as he did back at the Ridge, only able to watch and hold Dean’s limp hand as his friend struggled to just draw in breath.

Something shiny caught Aidan’s eye, and he looked away from Dean to see the medic had taken a pair of scissors and was cutting up Dean’s pants and briefs with quick _snicks_. The material was hastily discarded off to the side, and the blond was left completely unclothed.

It was that moment that Dean woke.

Feeling chilled to the bone, he felt incredibly exposed as the churning air in the cabin hit his bare skin. Curiously, the pain in his leg had dulled, as had the muscle contractions – but he felt entirely confused at the change in surroundings and the lack of Aidan.

The medic had noticed Dean’s waking as well, and placed a headset over his ears so he could hear his instructions, “Dean, you’re going to feel a little pressure when I insert the catheter okay?”

Still trying to determine where he was and what had happened since he’d last been conscious, Dean jumped at the sudden coldness as the man used an iodine-coated cotton ball to wash his skin.

“Relax,” Richard's voice was steady, soothing. Both him and Aidan (pale and sweaty, and only just managing to draw a tense smile) leaned over into his field of vision, and it took him away from the teetering edge of full-blown panic. Richard's voice was calming and clear through the headphones, clearly trying to distract him, “Welcome back. We’re on our way to the hospital.”

“Okay, Dean, here comes the pressure,” The strange man had grasped him in a very private place, and the next thing he knew, a burning pressure filled him as the tube snaked up to his bladder.

Dean grunted, startled and scared, and arched away from the touch.

“Easy, easy,” Richard held him, soothingly brushing back his hair. Aidan tensed in his seat, and he gripped Richard's pants as a wave of dizziness washed over him.

“Good, Dean. All done. That’s to monitor your urine output, sometimes venom has a way of affecting the kidneys,” The medic said as he taped the tubing to Dean’s inner thigh, then draped a thin blanket back over his patient, “How’s your pain now? Any better?”

Dean looked over to Aidan, panting and wide eyed, still trying to get adjusted to his surroundings. The narcotics and muscle relaxer, along with the shock, left his mind muddled and thought process slowed.

“Little,” he finally said.

Aidan forced himself to push back the growing nausea as Dean looked up to him for encouragement. He smiled down at him, genuinely relieved, “Good.”

“Good, buddy. How’s your muscle contractions? Any more pain in your belly?”

Dean blinked, his brows creasing together in confusion, when he realized had already forgotten the medic’s first question. Seeing the uncertain look, Aidan placed his hand gently against Dean’s stomach, and asked again softly, “Your stomach?”

Even the light pressure against his abdomen had the muscles tensing in forewarning, and his belly churned in distress, “Hur’s.”

The medic nodded and prepared another syringe, which he slowly dispensed into the IV port on his left forearm, “This will help some.”

Dean’s vision began to swirl as the additional pain medication entered his system, and for the first time since this morning, felt almost no pain as his body relaxed back into the gurney. Above him, Aidan’s face twisted in worry as he began to go under again, but the medic’s voice came over their headsets, reassuring him that this was okay. Aidan's pale face relaxed some, and thumbed his forearm around the IV.

“It’s okay. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

And feeling eased from that promise, Dean closed his eyes and relished the darkness.

X

The next time he woke was to the pungent smell of antiseptic and sounds of mechanical equipment whirring and beeping. Something tight was fixed to his face, blowing cool air across his mouth and nose. The touch and sounds disoriented him. His eyes were heavy and he was unable to open them, and anxiety formed deep in the pit of his stomach. He tried to take stock of his body and find what was wrong, but the moment he shifted his legs, pain tore through his muscles, shocking his system from his calf to his belly.

His dry lips parted, and he _screamed_.

“ _Hey, Hey, it’s okay, I’ve got you_.”

Memories flooded back to him, and he remembered the agony in his leg once landing on the Ridge; collapsing, Aidan holding him, then briefly, a moment in the helicopter.

“ _He’s awake,_ ” A deep voice off to his side, so familiar, “ _He’s hurting.”_ Richard.

Faint mumbling, and an older female’s voice floated above.

“ _They’re giving you something more for the pain. You’re okay._ ” Aidan.

Desperate to see him, Dean found the strength to open his eyes. And came face to face with the bedrail. Trying to orient himself, he slowly realized he had been placed on his right side. Pillows surrounded him, hugging him: two supporting his back and hips, one which he clutched at his stomach, and two more which raised his injured left leg. He was chilled, and registered that a thin sheet was the only thing covering him.

In front of him, Aidan lowered the bed rail and took his hand. He sat on the edge of a wooden chair and leaned in close. His eyes were red and puffy.

“It’s good to see you awake. You’re in the ICU at Dunedin.”

“Don’ feel good,” he panted into the non-rebreather mask.

“We don’t blame you,” Richard’s voice drifted from behind him. A large, warm hand encompassed his shoulder, “But you will soon. They just got the antivenom from the closest hospital on the North Island.”

“He’s right,” A thin woman in dark blue scrubs appeared next to Aidan, and he watched her as she adjusted the fluids on his IV pole. The old nurse had sharp blue eyes and short gray hair, and she reminded him fondly of his mum, “You’re going to start feeling relief from the pain and contractions very soon, the antivenom will will take care of all of that once it gets into your system. Dr. Petras will be in soon to look at your leg and take you down to surgery.”

Dean’s eyes went wide, and he slurred, “Surg’ry?”

“Just to clean out the wound, sweetheart,” she soothed, “You’ll be in and out,”

Feeling entirely overwhelmed, in pain, and drugged up to his eyeballs, he moaned helplessly, “Sick… sick.”

Aidan blanched in front of him, seeing the man’s features become grey and sweaty, “Sick? You’re gonna be sick? Okay, okay, okay.”

Dean heard the screech of a chair pushed backwards and then scrambling movements; in one moment he was heaving, and in the next, the mask was ripped from his face and he was choking up bile into a long, blue emesis bag. Richard’s strong hands behind him held him up and supported his shaking body, and Aidan kept brushing the errant curls from his face.

When his body finally decided it was done, Dean sagged back into the pillows miserably. Richard grabbed a cloth and dipped it in the water basin, which had been left on the table at his bedside, and wiped down his sweaty face then mouth before replacing the oxygen mask. Eyes half-lidded, he watched as Aidan passed off the bag to the nurse’s assistant who had appeared in the room, and who seemed all too interested in staring at its contents.

“100mL of emesis,” the younger man said to the nurse, looking at the lines on the side of the bag which measured the liquid, “and I just emptied 60mL from his Foley catheter.”

“Only 60?”

Aidan’s tense face leaned in close to his again as he held a new clean wet cloth, and placed it on his forehead. He managed a smile, “They measure everything around here, huh?”

Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes, brimming his lids, and he swallowed dryly. Having quite literally faced death hours ago, and still reeling with the terrifying prospect of surgery, he choked out, “ ‘m sorry.”

“Hey now,” Aidan looked up sharply across the bed, assumingly making confused eye contact with Richard, “What’s there to be sorry for?”

Dean's eyes fought the heavy, long blinks as complete exhaustion tried to pull him to sleep.

“You can tell me later. Go to sleep, Deano. You’ll feel better when you wake up.”

Dean shook his head stubbornly, trying to talk around his parched mouth, “Love… you… “

“You know I love you, too, Deano,” Aidan said immediately, and squeezed his hand, “Now no more talking. Just relax and try to rest.”

“No,” Dean huffed, obviously upset as he shifted in the bed, just barely clinging to consciousness. His drugged mind just screamed to admit the secret he had guarded for so long, “ _No_ … I lo- _ove_ … you.”

Through heavy lids that finally closed and succumbed to the pull of narcotics, he watched Aidan’s face drop and had a fleeting thought he’d just made the biggest mistake of his life.


	6. The Prognosis

“100mL of emesis,” the younger man said to the nurse, looking at the lines on the side of the bag which measured the liquid. “And I just emptied 60mL from his Foley catheter.”

“Only 60?”

Aidan’s tense face leaned in close to his again as he held a new clean wet cloth, and placed it on his forehead. He managed a smile, “They measure everything around here, huh?”

Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes, brimming his lids, and he swallowed dryly. Having quite literally faced death hours ago, and still reeling with the terrifying prospect of surgery, he choked out, “ ‘m sorry.”

“Hey now,” Aidan looked up sharply across the bed, assumingly making confused eye contact with Richard. “What’s there to be sorry for?”

Dean's eyes fought the heavy, long blinks as complete exhaustion tried to pull him to sleep.

“You can tell me later. Go to sleep, Deano. You’ll feel better when you wake up.”

Dean shook his head stubbornly, trying to talk around his parched mouth, “Love… you… “

“You know I love you, too, Deano,” Aidan said immediately, and squeezed his hand. “Now no more talking. Just relax and try to rest.”

“No,” Dean huffed, obviously upset as he shifted in the bed, just barely clinging to consciousness. His drugged mind just screamed to admit the secret he had guarded for so long. “ _No_ … I lo- _ove_ … you.”

Through heavy lids that finally closed and succumbed to the pull of narcotics, he watched Aidan’s face drop and had a fleeting thought he’d just made the biggest mistake of his life.

 

X

 

“Dr. Petras,” The nurse’s voice greeted the tall, broad-shouldered physician as he strode into the room, followed quickly by a young surgical resident in teal scrubs.

Aidan looked up from his position at Dean’s side, his chest clenched by the admission from his friend. His mouth opened and closed stupidly as he looked from the doctor to Dean, and then, realizing Dean had closed his eyes, a painful, large pit formed in his stomach as he hadn’t yet had the chance to respond.

“Evelyn,” Petras paused at the foot of Dean’s bed and smiled warmly at the nurse, clearly glad to have her working with his patient. “How’s our patient doing?”

“He woke up about fifteen minutes ago, but was experiencing some pain. We gave him another 5mg of morphine, it seems to have finally taken effect,” she nodded over to where the blonde had calmed and lost consciousness. “I’m worried about his urine output. Only 60mL in the past two hours.”

The physician frowned deeply and strode over to the bed, opposite of Aidan. Richard pushed himself back to allow the physician more room, and stood hesitantly, shifting his weight foot to foot a few feet away. With careful hands, the doctor turned Dean’s bared calf and peeled back the dressing that covered the wound. It was angry red, incredibly swollen, and leaking fluid from the bite marks.

He released the leg, and moved closer to Dean’s head, where he leaned over and asked, voice laden with concern, “Dean? Dean, can you hear me?” Forgoing the reading on the telemetry machine, the man gently picked up Dean’s wrist and felt for a manual pulse, brows furrowed as he counted the quick beats.

“Is he okay?” Aidan asked him softly, voice unsure.

The intense brown eyes of the doctor looked down to him, only now just acknowledging his presence. After a moment of studying Aidan’s waxen complexion, his eyes softened, and the doctor released Dean’s wrist and held his hand out to the Irishman.

“Dr. Petras,” he introduced himself, and turned to his left to shake Richard’s hand as well. “I’ll be taking Dean down to surgery in a moment. Are you family?”

Aidan hesitated with his response, “No… Just – just a friend.”

“He’s listed as next of kin,” Evelyn interjected kindly from where she was charting by the whiteboard. The statement startled Aidan, and he couldn’t hold back a look of surprise at her. _When had Dean changed his records to list him as such?_

But he couldn’t rest more than a second on the topic, as the physician had pulled up a chair at the foot of the bed, facing them. He then gathered a clipboard from the surgical resident, who passed it over to Aidan. “Has his attending physician been in to explain his condition to you yet?”

At the negative, the doctor continued, “Well, I’m going to be frank with you both. Katipo bites are very dangerous. Because these spiders are incredibly reclusive and don’t typically bite, we’ve not yet had the chance to study them closely, and every patient tends to have differing symptoms and prognoses. Dean’s case is unusual in that we weren’t able to administer the antivenom immediately after the envenomation. The good news is that the majority of patients begin to see a relief from the pain and muscle spasms shortly after we start the antivenom. However, with Dean's low urine output, it's concerning to me that the venom may have begun to affect his other organs, such as his kidneys. Acute renal failure is a possibility here, but we'll cross that bridge if and when that happens. 

“Now as soon as we have you sign some consent forms, we’ll be bringing him down to surgery. We need to drain the abscess that’s formed over the bite, and remove any necrotic tissue that’s begun to form underneath. When we get downstairs, I’ll be able to access any other damage, and after his surgery, I’ll be able to explain any further risks, like possible muscle damage. I know this is a lot of information for you to take in, but your friend is in very capable hands with our staff.”

Aidan’s eyes had grown wide during the surgeon’s speech as he listened to the medical jargon, and he clutched the arms of his chair in a tight grip. Necrosis? Renal failure?

“The first form on your clipboard is consent for the anesthesia and surgery, and acknowledging the risks that come with them. You’ll be signing the bottom line as you’re signing for him as his next of kin. The next two sheets are explaining what I’ve just said to you about the bite itself and the procedure.”

Aidan scribbled his signature with a shaking hand, and passed the clipboard back to the physician. Petras noticed this and smiled warmly.

“Aidan, you’re friend is very sick but we’ll be taking good care of him here. His prognosis is promising. Now, I’ll show you to our surgical waiting area while our nurses prep him for surgery.”

Swallowing, Aidan stood, and paused to take Dean’s hand, which lay limp next to his hip. He leaned over, not minding anyone else in the room, and lightly kissed his temple. 

He then brushed his lips over to Dean’s ear, and whispered, “I’ll see you soon, Deano. And we’re going to have a nice, long talk as soon as you’re feeling better.”

 

X

 

The waiting room was large and lined with many seats, although no one else was in there except for him and Richard. Aidan moved wearily to the seat furthest in the corner, and dropped down into it with a bone-weary sigh. Distantly, he noticed Richard had sat next to him, and his large hand came to rest in between his shoulder blades.

“Breathe,” Richard’s gruff voice came from his right.

Only then did Aidan realize he was on the verge of hyperventilating as sweat beaded his forehead, and his chest tightened painfully.

“I can’t do this, Richard. _Shit_ ,” Aidan blew out a shaky breath and scrubbed his eyes, which had begun to swell with tears.

“You heard the doctor. He’s going to be recover.”

“But who knows the damage? And … and what if there are complications?” He swallowed at the large knot in his throat, “And… God, he told me he loved me.”

“And?”

Aidan paused, and his shaking hands stilled in his lap. Having not only pushed his feelings for Dean, but also his sexuality, so deeply within himself for so long, Aidan was wholly overwhelmed with the entire situation. Though he knew Richard as one of the most accepting, kind men of the cast, the profound fear of being judged swelled over him. Exasperated and with what little courage he had left from today, Aidan's eyes glanced over his features, searching every crease and line of the man's face for any sort of disdain.

But he found none.

Richard’s soft voice continued, “Do you not think we’ve noticed the way you two are inseparable? The way you both look up to each other, depend on each other. Aidan, that man’s eyes light up every time you walk into a room. You're a fool if you tell me that man has no feelings for you, and you have none back.”

Aidan let out a sort of half laugh, half sob, “He told me he loved me, and I didn’t say anything back. I love him, Richard. I've loved him since our first day on set, and the one chance I have to tell him, I choke up. I’ve messed this up good, haven’t I?”

“No,” Richard reached up and ruffled the wig on his head. “No, you haven’t. When Dean’s out of surgery, we'll go find his room and the moment he's awake, you're going to tell him what you've just told me. He'll understand. Everything will be fine, Aidan."

So Aidan waits. Aidan waits for Dean. 

It was nearing three hours before the rest of the cast arrived. By that time, a young nurse had noticed them still dressed in their uncomfortable wardrobe and had offered them a set of large hospital scrubs. It took Aidan all of five minutes to get undressed and out of his wig and prosthetics, and he had quickly returned to the waiting room, not wanting to miss the possibility of any news. 

Slowly, Adam, James, Graham, Stephen, Jed, Peter, and Lex filtered in to the room, their composures tense and hesitant. They were also undressed, but looked hastily thrown together and out of breath, as if they had rushed to get there.

Graham immediately sat on Aidan’s left side, studied his ill-looking complexion for a moment before asking hesitantly, “How is he?”

“Not great,” came the forced reply. Aidan found himself staring at his knees, unable to make eye contact as he fought the growing knot in his throat.

“Richard?” Clearly unable to get more of a response, Graham looked up to his friend. The others had settled into seats, and looked expectedly at him. 

“Dean’s been touch and go since he got here. He’s in surgery now, they’re cleaning out the wound and seeing if there’s any additional damage. They’re worried about kidney failure… but he said we’d cross that bridge if we got there.”

“When’s he due out of surgery?” James asked.

“Not sure. They didn’t give us much of a time frame.” 

And so they continued waiting. Richard and Lex had left twice to get them all coffee in the additional two-hour wait to hear any update. The time slowly dragged on, but Aidan refused to move from his seat, because he would always wait for Dean.

  
X

 

It was Dr. Petras and two baby-faced surgical residents who finally walked into the surgical waiting area. Their faces were serious, drawn. Aidan felt sick.

The physician pulled up a seat and sat down heavily. He intertwined his lithe fingers, and looked directly at the younger man.

“Dean made it through surgery.”

But the good news held no weight, because they could tell something was entirely wrong.

Aidan shook his head, “What happened?”

Petras clearly had many years behind him as a trauma surgeon, because as he delivered the grave news, his words were gentle and carefully spoken. “There were some complications. Once we got in there, it was clear the venom had spread down to the muscle layer. Much of it had become necrotic, which we removed without any difficulty. However, as I explained to you earlier, katipo bites are very rare here, so understanding and anticipating his symptoms has been a guessing game.”

“Just tell us what happened, doc, please,” Aidan begged.

“Once we brought him to PACU, he began showing signs of severe toxicity. He started throwing arrhythmias just before he went into respiratory failure. We were forced to intubate, and as such, we’ve placed him in a medically induced coma in our ICU.”

“ _God_ ,” Richard sucked in a shaking breath, and dragged a hand down his face.

“What’s his prognosis, doc?” Lex asked quietly from where he had been standing off to the side.

“We’re giving him a second dose of antivenom. It may be that the first wasn’t sufficient enough. It will likely resolve any additional pain and muscle spasms when he wakes up, but he’ll still have post op pain from the incision to debride the wound.”

Graham cleared his throat, and spoke roughly, “When he wakes up? So he’ll be okay?” 

Petras hesitated, “He’s in critical condition, but he's young and otherwise in good health, which is why I can say I'm cautiously optimistic he'll fight this. In the mean time, we’ll be continually monitoring his kidney, heart, and liver function, and his respiratory status.”

Clearly overwhelmed, Aidan’s rid rimmed eyes pleaded with the surgeon, “Can I see him?”

Petras slowly rose and nodded, “Two at a time. Follow me and I’ll take you there.”


	7. The Midnight Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Sadly, not mine (unlike the mistakes).

Dr. Petras slowly rose and nodded, “Two at a time. Follow me and I’ll take you there. I can show the rest of you to the ICU waiting room, it’s much more comfortable and right next to the unit.”

The cast silently followed the doctor down the winding halls of the hospital until they reached a unit tucked away on the first floor. The doctor opened a door off to the side, which he held open as everyone but Aidan and Richard piled in and solemnly took their seats along the wall.

Releasing the door, the surgeon brought them the rest of the way down the hallway, and used his badge to activate the automatic doors, above which, in bold, pointed letters read: “ _Intensive Care Unit_ ”. 

The shock Aidan felt as he walked into the disturbingly quiet floor shook him deeply. Each glassed room that he passed hid nothing of the intensely sick patients inside: most were un-gowned, surrounded by whirring machines and monitors that whined incessantly with their precautionary alarms. As if watching a horrific train wreck, Aidan couldn’t help but stare into the room of one certain patient as a doctor clinically cut into the man's arm and inserted a large catheter. Blood coated the physician’s latex gloves, and with a swell of nausea, he forced himself to look away.

Dean was in the farthest room. His curtain was also drawn back, and as Aidan approached, the breath caught sharply in his throat.

“You can stay as long as you like,” Petras said softly as they walked into the room. “Just be sure to make room for the medical staff as they come in to see him.”

“Thank you, doctor. For everything,” Richard said sincerely, shaking the man’s hand.

Aidan, however, had eyes only for Dean. With slow, nervous steps, he approached the blonde’s bed. Dean, lying so still and silent, was draped with wires, drains, and equipment, that Aidan could hardly find a patch of pale, waxen skin left untouched.

“What’s… what’s all this stuff?” Aidan whispered. He wanted to reach out and touch his friend, but was too anxious to disturb anything.

Petras had just turned to leave, but instead approached Dean on the opposite side of Aidan. The unit had been extremely hectic that day, and the nurses were understandably busy with other sick patients; and because of this, the surgeon didn’t mind taking the extra moment to calm the men’s nerves.

“You can touch him, you won’t hurt him,” Petras reassured Aidan gently, “Most of this stuff is just used to monitor his condition and isn’t painful. This,” he used his hand to cup Dean’s cheek and point at the tube taped securely to his cheeks, “is a ventilator. It’s breathing for him until he’s awake enough to do so on his own. Once we start lowering his sedation, the machine will start recording any of his spontaneous breaths, and that’s when we’ll be able to begin to wean him off of it.”

Tracing downward, he stopped at the many gray wires that blossomed from the top of his gown, “These are connected to this telemetry machine right here. It’s monitoring his heart beat and respirations. Right here,” he lightly touched Dean’s splinted arm above from where Aidan tightly held his hand, “this is called an arterial line. We’ve placed a catheter into his artery so we can make sure his blood pressure stays stable in real-time. There's a computer out at the nurses station so the charge nurse will always be able to see his vital signs. The rest of these IV’s are to give him fluids and finishing off the antivenom.”

Pointing off to the end of the bed where another clear tube exited from under the covers and attached to a collection bag hanging beside the bed, he explained, “That’s a Foley catheter. It’s what we’re using to monitor his urine output, which can give us an idea about his kidney function. As I explained to you earlier, katipo venom is very toxic to the body and can affect how the organs function.” Petras moved further down the bed, and gripped Dean’s good leg, which was wrapped in a compression device, “This device prevents blood from pooling in his leg while he’s not moving so he doesn’t develop blood clots. And then, we have this funny thing.”  
  
He moved the covers aside and pulled out a clear, flattened grenade looking bulb, which had a small amount of blood and fluid in it. It was attached to Dean’s wounded leg, sneaking underneath the gauze of his incision site, “This is a JP drain. It’s going directly into his wound to remove any extra buildup of fluid. We’ll be monitoring the output closely, and remove it once the wound heals.”

There was movement from behind Aidan suddenly, and a small push against the back of his knees. Richard had placed a chair directly behind him, and with a strong hand on his shoulder, pushed him into it.

“Sit,” he said.

“I’m okay,” Aidan breathed out shakily, and scrubbed his eyes with his hand. “It’s just… a lot to take in.”

“What’s most important is that, although he’s in critical condition, his vital signs are holding steady,” Petras reassured him, as he straightened back out the bed covers. “I need to finish my rounds, but the call bell is right there if you need anything. The nurses will be in frequently to check on him, and don’t be afraid to ask or mention anything.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Richard said. He moved a chair on the opposite side of Dean as the doctor left, and dropped down heavily.

Between them, Dean was still and silent as the respirator, taped to both sides of his mouth, breathed evenly for him.

 

X

 

“There we go, Deano,” Aidan softly murmured as he and the nurse finished turning him on his side to face him. He adjusted the sheets and quilt up and around the man’s shoulders, tucking them in gently around his body. “That must feel better.”

The nurses had came in frequently to check on their patient, and Aidan became quickly orientated with their routine after spending three continuous days and nights there – enough so, that much of the time, he was offering to help.

He would move back to let them record vital signs and empty his drains, but would quickly offer to help them turn Dean’s position on the bed. Every two hours, with the help of the nurse, they would turned Dean to prevent skin deterioration and pressure sores – both associated with being still for so long.

Then, due to Dean’s low-grade fever from the toxicity, they would change the bed sheets and bathe him with cool, wet cloths. Aidan liked to think that, had Dean been awake, he would have appreciated the gentle measures to keep him clean and comfortable.

“How’s his output doing?” Aidan looked to Clara, Dean’s night nurse, as she emptied his catheter. Anxiously awaiting the news, he reached under the covers and took the Kiwi’s small hand within his own.

Dean had always been warm, always. It was something Aidan always loved to tease him about; mucking through the icy rivers on set, across the barren, windy planes – and still, whenever Aidan had the chance to brush against him, the guy was always putting off heat waves.

Now though, Dean’s hand was dry and cool, unresponsive to his touch.

“Getting better,” Clara smiled tenderly to him. “We’re up to 40mL an hour today.”

Aidan couldn’t help the grin the spread across his face, feeling much like a proud parent. He squeezed Dean’s limp hand, and leaned in closely, “Look at you. You’re doing so great, babe.”

The older nurse took a moment to look fondly at the two young men as Aidan continued his whispered reassurances. Clara had worked many years in the ICU, but the sufferings that each patient and family faced never got any easier for her. Although Dean was inching his way towards a full recovery, the threat of renal failure and permanent muscle damage to his leg was still very real as his body fought the lasting effects of the venom.

Aidan was determined and unyielding, though. Never moved from his side more than to use the restroom or take a phone call out in the hallway. Richard, another man Clara had grown fond of, was just as much of a solid presence as the Irishman; today had actually been the first day she hadn’t seen him in his usual spot at her patient’s bedside.

Moving to the toilet in the corner of the room, she emptied the urine from the measuring cup, and went to record her evening notes, Aidan’s voice a soft hum in the background.

“I guess we can officially take of a romantic walk on the beach off of our date list, huh, Deano?”

In response, the ventilator quietly _whooshed_ as it breathed for Dean.

“It’s okay, I know you’re tired. You’re doing good. So much better.”

Another marked inhale and exhale forced into his unresponsive lungs.

Clara recorded the increased urine output in her chart, and simultaneously heard Aidan release a soft sigh. His voice dipped, and he whispered dejectedly, “Come on, Deano. This has been the longest three days of my life. I need you to wake up. Please, just… Just wake up, I need you to hear that I love you, too.”

 

X

 

“Hey, Batman!”

The large, exuberant dog bounced on his hind legs, tail wagging wildly as he leapt up to give wet kisses to the man who entered the home.

Kneeling to the floor, Richard laughed and ruffled the dog’s fur. “Good boy. Ready to go outside?”

Batman whined softly and nudged Richard with his muzzle, clearly craving the attention and contact.

“I know. I know you miss your daddy, but he’ll be home soon, I promise.”

Richard walked through Dean’s quaint home, having become familiar with the layout over the past three days, leading Batman out to the fenced backyard.

After overcoming the shock of Dean’s initial injury and then resulting coma, Aidan had been the first to remember the Kiwi’s beloved dog, thankfully the same night he had been injured. Aidan had been slumped at Dean’s bedside, staring off into space, when he suddenly gasped and bolted upright. It had taken a moment for Richard to understand the panicked shouts, but after the clarification, Richard guided him back to sitting and reassured him Batman would be taken care of.

With Aidan’s spare key, Richard left Dean’s quiet ICU room twice a day to make sure the dog was fed, watered, and taken outside to play.

Entering the living room where he could let Batman out through the sliding glass door, Richard passed the coffee table. In the center, a framed picture stood in the center, and in it, a photo taken from one of the earlier days on set. The first day Richard had seen it, a deep sadness had overwhelmed him; a longing for the simple, exciting days on set - a time before the very life of his good friend was teetering on the edge of a sharp, unforgiving slope.

The picture was taken inside Bilbo’s hobbit hole and they were dressed entirely in costume. Dean, Aidan, Richard, Graham, James, and Adam all squeezed upon a small bench, right in the midst of a heave of laughter. In the center of the group, Dean held his arm tightly around Aidan’s shoulders, cheeks dimpled and pink from his large smile. Aidan, the one who had cracked the joke, had his head turned to the left towards Dean, obviously pleased to have made Dean smile so brightly.

At the door, Batman whined and pawed at the glass.

Richard continued forward with a pang of grief and ruffled the dog’s curly fur. He knew this was the least he could do.


	8. The Awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been awhile, and I apologize!  
> But – hooray! I’ve finally graduated college, and although I’m still working a ton, it frees up a bunch of time for writing. This chapter is a bit short, but the next chapter is already half-written, and I promise – will be updated much quicker. I've added "days", just to make things a little more clear as to how much time has passed. I’m thinking one - maybe two – more chapters, and this one will be finished! And I’ve already got a sequel planned, if anyone is interested :o)

_Day 3_

One thing was for certain, Dean never did anything by halves.

Although he had begun to take spontaneous breaths and was downgraded to a high-flow nasal cannula by early evening, he had developed a low-grade fever and his doctors were becoming increasingly concerned. In response, they took measures to remove nonessential invasive equipment, in a means to prevent portals for infection. His arterial line had been withdrawn and replaced by a cuff on his right bicep, which automatically inflated and recorded his blood pressure every fifteen minutes. His indwelling catheter would be removed as soon as possible, too, as soon as he was more coherent.

“Easy, easy,” Aidan gently restrained Dean’s arms as he fought to remove the ice packs placed along his neck, armpits, and groin. “These need to stay. Don’t fight them.”

Without the respirator obstructing his ability to speak, and having been weaned off the sedatives, Dean had become vocal in his delirium and was moaning – tiny cries that could’ve been the sounds of a kitten or puppy.

Clara, having returned for her evening shift, entered the room and greeted him with a warm smile. "I hear our boy is doing a bit better tonight.” She stepped over to Dean’s bedside, and took a moment to listen to his lungs with her stethoscope. “Mhmm. Good, strong breath sounds. Now we just have to kick this fever, huh?”

“He won’t stop moaning. I think he’s in pain.”

“It’s most likely the fever that has him confused, dear. Let’s make him more comfortable, that may help. It’s time to turn him, anyhow.”

With her help, Aidan lowered the bed rails, and carefully avoiding the IV lines and telemetry wires, turned down the covers and unsnapped his sweaty gown. With gentle hands, they bathed him with cooled washcloths, and redressed him in a clean gown. They then turned Dean over onto his left side, using the pad beneath him to pull him to the center of the bed. Aidan reached over to grab three spare pillows from the windowsill and used one to place in front of the blonde so it could be clutched, and Clara took the remaining two to carefully raise and adjust his injured leg. Now settled, they adjusted the ice packs and clean sheets around him.

“Aidan,” Clara whispered from her spot on Dean’s left side. “Come over here a moment.”

Confused, Aidan hesitantly made his way around the bed, and nearly stopped in his tracks when he saw Dean’s green eyes half-lidded – _open_.

“Dean,” Aidan breathed out, rushing the remaining distance to his side. With the bed rails still down, he leaned in and grabbed his hand on top of the pillow. “Dean, can you hear me?”

Sluggishly, as if he was still adapting to the world of consciousness, his gaze settled on Aidan, and stayed there. His dry lips parted, and only managed to moan out a feeble _Nnnng_.

After the longest three days of his life, Aidan’s face broke out in a wide grin after hearing quite possibly the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. “Welcome back, Deano.”

Clara, having moved slightly back to give the Irishman room, walked back to the bedside, and knelt lower so the Kiwi could easily see her.

“Well hello there. It’s nice to finally see those eyes of yours, Dean. My name is Clara, I’ve been helping to take care of you. Do you know where you are?”

“Hmmm,” Dean’s eyelids blinked heavily, clearly struggling to remain open. When they opened again, he slurred out, “Whu…zz… Wha’?”

“You’re in the hospital,” Aidan explained gently. “You hurt your leg on set but you’re doing much better now. You’re going to be okay.”

Dean furrowed his brows and looked puzzled, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t make the connection between his brain and his mouth.

“You’ve been sick for a few days now, honey,” Clara said, “and you’re on some pain medication, which is making you sleepy. Get some rest; Aidan’s right, you’re going to be just fine.”

“‘kay,” Dean’s eyes blinked a few times, and eventually closed as he relaxed into a more peaceful sleep.

Aidan collapsed back into the chair behind him as Clara adjusted the bedrails, feeling at last a soothing sense of relief and hope.

They weren’t in the clear yet, but they were getting there.

 

X

 

Aidan rubbed his tired, puffy eyes as Clara left the room to check on her other patients. It was nearing 1am, and although he knew he was pushing his body’s physical and mental limits, the good news from Dean’s nurse gave him reason to keep pushing forward. Despite the lower fever, he had finally settled for the night and was resting soundly, his urine output had normalized, and the CT scan performed earlier that evening had revealed a healthy liver and kidneys. It was the first truly good news they’d had in days. 

Just as Clara exited, he heard voices outside the room, and glanced over to see Richard and Adam walk in, trailed by two teary-eyed older adults.

Aidan slowly pushed himself up and was immediately embraced in a tight hug by Vicky, Dean's mother, her quivering arms holding him close. He had met the pair earlier that year, as they lived close by to their filming locations and had invited the boys to lunch on more than one occasion. Being so far away from his family, their warm invitations and affection kept his homesickness at bay.

Now though, Vicky's blue eyes were bright and bubbling with tears, and she gripped him even harder. “Thank you for watching after my boy. His nurses said you’ve been here the whole time.”

Lance, Dean’s father, was stoic and quiet as he slowly approached the bed, eyes taking in the still form of his son, and he reached out to take the limp hand. Dean’s looked incredibly small within his father’s grasp.

“Oh Lance… my baby… he’s so… ” Vicky released Aidan and went to Dean's side, taking his other hand.

“It’s okay, darling,” Lance said softly.

Aidan cleared his throat. “He’s doing much better, the nurses are saying his tests have improved. He was awake for the first time this evening.”

Vicky’s eyes swelled with tears again, and fell down her cheeks as she nodded. “Thank you both so much. Richard, I don’t know how we would have made those flights without your calls about how he was fairing. I only wish we could have been here sooner.”

They had booked the quickest flight out of Paris where they were touring, and the 38 hour trip to Dunedin had worn them substantially. With haggard eyes and pale faces, they looked just as exhausted as Aidan felt.

When Dean’s parents leaned back over the bed to hold their sleeping son, Aidan removed himself to give them space and walked over to Richard and Adam. The older man clasped a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “You said he was conscious earlier? Can’t believe I missed it.”

Aidan sighed and wiped his tired eyes. “A little confused, but… It was great to see him awake.”

“Why don’t you go home and rest?” Richard asked as he led them to the door. “You haven’t stepped foot outside the hospital since he’s been here. You could use some real sleep. And you’ve barely eaten the past three days. How are you going to be any use to Dean if you end up in the hospital yourself?”

“Yeah,” Aidan finally relented. “Yeah, I’ll head home for a bit, give his parents some time with him. Wanna give me a lift? My car is still at the trailer.”

“My car’s parked right outside,” Adam said. “I can drive you back.”

Aidan smiled gratefully to him. “Thanks Ad. You gonna stay, Richard?”

Richard nodded. “I’m bringing his parents back to his apartment when they’re ready. I’ve still got all of their luggage, and at some point tonight Brett will be landing from his flight from LA.”

“Call me if something happens? I’m worried about his fever,” Aidan’s eyes misted, clearly at the brink of exhaustion, and looked hesitant as if he was beginning to change his mind about leaving.

Richard ruffled his hair, and pushed both him and Adam out the door. “Get out of here, Aid. Of course I’ll call. Get some sleep, I’ll see you in 8 hours, minimum.”

“Three.”

“Eight.”

“Four.”

“ _Eight._  Now go rest!”

 

X

 

The next time Dean woke, he was lucid enough to hear the mechanical clicks and whirrs - sounds which quickly disclosed his location – _hospital_. Feeling sick and sweaty, he shifted a little on the bed as he tried to get more comfortable.

“ _Deeen? Sweehar, caan’ou ear me?_ ” Although the words seemed jumbled and far away, he would know that voice anywhere.

 _Mum_.

_Why was his mum here?_

He took in a deep breath, slowly becoming aware of the strong flow of oxygen feeding into his nose, and he stiffly turned his head towards her voice. Parting his chapped lips, he used what little strength he had to mumble, “ ‘umm.”

“ _Therr ou are_ ,” A small soft hand brushed through his curls, the action soothing him, grounding him. Just as he felt the bed dip by his hip, he forced his eyes to part open and tried to blink away the blurry forms in front of him.

“Muumm,” Stronger this time.

“Shh,” She soothed, and drew her hand down to his chest, where she softly rubbed near his shoulder and collarbone. “You’re alright, sweetheart. We’re here." 

“Mum?” Feeling entirely disoriented, Dean tried to sit up in bed. He gripped the bed sheets weakly in panic, wringing them in his trembling fingers.

_He was in the hospital. He felt wrong, sick - horribly sick. His parents were suddenly there, they had come to be at his bedside. Oh God ... Was he dying?_

“Woah. Easy, bud,” His father’s voice came from his right. “Are you hurting?”

“Dad? Wha… Wha’s wrong?” Sweat broke out onto his forehead, and he tried to blink away the fuzziness that shadowed his parent’s figures.

The sound of heavy footsteps echoed in the room, and they stilled up by his head, where a loud alarm was suddenly silenced.

“Dean,” A new voice, one he recognized but couldn’t place where he knew her. “Dean, you’re in the hospital, and you’ve been sick, but you’re going to be just fine, okay? Do you understand me?”

“Mum,” He whimpered, and his fingers released the blanket and scrambled to reach out to her. His eyes still hadn’t adjusted to the light, and he was left gazing blindly around the room. The woman’s words escaped him, and the anxiety from strange appearance of his parents crested to a new height. His heart raced in his chest, and he struggled to suck in oxygen.

"Baby, relax, I'm right here. Dad and I are right here."

“Dean, I’m going to give you something to relax, okay? It’s going to make you sleepy, and that’s okay, I wan’ tyou t sleep – oullfeeeel brettr naand - willbe haer wen’ou wak…”

Through the haze of confusion, Dean had only a moment to realize Aidan was missing, but before he could ask, the darkness enveloped him.


	9. The Fever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Having a major blizzard in New England has, like, one perk… the entire day to curl up in my pjs and write this chapter! Enjoy it, guys! One more after this :o)

After tossing and turning in bed for nearly six hours, and feeling increasingly guilty for being away, Aidan tossed aside the covers and dressed himself quickly in jeans and a dark hooded sweatshirt. He stumbled over to his trailer’s bathroom, still feeling exhausted, and splashed cool water over his face. The reflection in the mirror looked nothing like himself; his eyes red rimmed and puffy, face pale, so he quickly turned away with a dark sigh. Nothing could have prepared him for this week, and although Dean’s confession from a few days ago left him feeling hopeful, he was still left feeling sick and somehow empty.

“Manage to get any sleep?” 

Aidan looked up from drying off his face to see Adam’s thin frame leaning against the doorjamb.

He shrugged. “Maybe two or three hours. Not really sure, honestly.”

Adam winced, but looked to have expected so. He held out a large, steaming mug. “Caffeinated tea, you look like you need it. I’ve made breakfast, which you also look to need, and then we can get back to the hospital. Richard took his parents home, so I’m sure he’s missing you.”

His face broke out into a smile, and he followed Adam into the kitchen where a pile of fresh fruit and buttered pancakes sat waiting for him.

____________________

 

The ICU was quiet even as the physicians and nurses bustled around the unit with their papers and medications. It was morning and the change of shift about an hour ago brought about a new energy to the floor. That was why when they saw Clara leaving Dean’s room looking drawn and haggard, they were hit with a rush of alarm. On the way to the med room, her eyes met theirs, and she offered only a half-smile.

“What’s wrong?” Aidan asked immediately, not caring for pretenses. Having spent the majority of the evenings with her as Dean’s night nurse, the lot of them had become familiar and comfortable in her presence. The matronly woman was extremely careful and doting in her work, and they had taken a liking to her especially. Now, though, her features were tense and as easy to read as an open book.

She paused and took a breath. “His temperature spiked just after his parents left. We’ve upped his fluids and antibiotics, but his fever is making him a bit confused. We’ve had to place him in restraints so he doesn’t agitate his wound. Go ahead and see him. Michael is going to be his day nurse, and he’ll be in shortly.”

With a small thanks, they left and entered Dean’s room. The bed had been lowered from its usual semi-fowlers position to lay completely flat. A coat of sweat covered the blonde’s body, soaking his gown, and he tossed weakly, arms clenched tight against the wrist restraints in his delirium. His bad leg was propped up on a pillow and the bared ankle was also in a soft restraint, the baby blue padding wrapped snugly around his bony joint.

“Oh, Dean,” Aidan whispered.

Dean’s head jerked, and his glassy green eyes immediately locked on to his friends. When they approached, his gazed focused more and struggling ceased with a breathy groan. 

“Hey, buddy,” Adam smiled at him, and he closed the remaining distance to the bedside.

Aidan moved to the other side of the bed, and gently lifted Dean’s hand into his. With a gentle touch, he massaging the tensed muscles near the soft restraint, and the man seemed to relax even further.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Aidan asked softly.

Dean took a moment, his brows furrowed as he tried to process what his friend was asking. With a wince, he shifted his body in the bed, the tangled sheets barely covering him.

“Um… Hot. Why’s’t so hot?”

“It’s not hot, it’s just you, Deano. You have a fever.” 

“Oh.”

“Wanna help me quick, Ads?” Aidan gestured to the messy bed and Dean with a sigh. Having had to deal with the sudden fever and most likely the chaos of her other sick patients, Clara must not have had the time to get him cleaned up. It didn’t bother him in the slightest, though, and although it’d been a little strange at first, he’d quickly become comfortable with the task over the past week.

Aidan pulled the damp sheet from where it had worked itself halfway under the Kiwi’s body, and tossed it into the laundry while Adam opened the closet to take out fresh linens.

“I’m hot,” Dean mumbled and rolled his head to watch them against his pillow.

“I know. We’ll get you feeling better in a minute.”

“You’re hot, too,” Dean was looking straight at Aidan, seeming not to remember the other man in the room.

Adam chuckled as he gathered bathing supplies into a pink basin, and Aidan’s cheeks grew pink.

“Dean, uh, now’s not the best time to –”

“Aid? So hot. Don’ feel good.”

“I know, I know,” he said. He dunked a washcloth into the basin of cool water, wetting it. After wringing it out, he placed it on Dean’s forehead. “We just have to break this fever of yours.”

“Break me? You want to break up with me?”

Aidan blanched. “What? No, no, Dean. You’re confused.”

“Don’t,” Dean whimpered in his delirium, his eyes glazed with fever. “I love you, Aid. Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t, I promise you,” Aidan soothed and kissed his forehead, brushing back the sweaty curls there. “I’m here for you, Dean. You have a fever, and you’re confused. I’ll never leave you.” 

When Dean had calmed, they made quick work of washing him, powdering his skin, and covering him in a new gown and sheets. All the commotion seemed to tire the blonde quickly, and he fell into a more peaceful sleep. Knowing he was finally getting rest, Aidan and Adam quickly followed suit and relaxed back into their seats.

____________________

 

The itch under his nose was the first thing Dean noticed. It took a few minutes of slowly breaching consciousness for him to remember he was in the hospital, and the ache in his leg to remember _why_.

With an uncoordinated hand, he reached up to scratch the itch, but his hand came short with a hard tug. The sudden jerk left him momentarily confused and he pulled even harder, only to realize he was tied down. A surge of panic swept through him just when a calming voice came from above.

“Hey, hey. You with us now?”

Realizing now that he hadn’t even opened his eyes, Dean slowly blinked until Adam’s fuzzy form focused into view. He nodded, still not feeling completely with it or in control of his body.

His friend smiled down at him, and took the bedside remote to press the call button. “You’ve had a rough few days, mate.”

He sure felt like it. Lethargically, he rolled his head to look at the other side of the bed, and a wave of relief washed over him as he saw Aidan lounged back in his chair. The younger man was clearly sleeping, his head tilted back and mouth wide open in a deep slumber.

“He’s also had a rough few days,” Adam chuckled. “Barely slept.”

“How’s our rockstar doing?” A tall, burly man in scrubs moved into view next to Adam, and did a double take when he saw Dean awake and coherent.

“Hey, there. I’m Michael, your nurse today. Nice to finally see you awake, the other nurses said you’ve been giving them some trouble these past few days.”

Dean’s eyes tracked his movements, obediently answering his questions and laying still as his temperature and vital signs were taken, and his wound checked for any further infection.

“You’re leg’s looking great, Dean,” Michael said as he replaced the bandages with clean gauze.

Slowly, Aidan shifted in his chair, the conversation around him tugging him awake. Dean watched him with fondness as the eyes sleepily peaked open, clearly checking on his friend. A large grin broke out onto his face when he realized he was conscious and looking right back at him.

“You’re awake!”

“Awake and looking excellent,” Michael said as he swung his stethoscope around his neck. “Fever’s finally kicked and your leg is looking much better. Looks like you’ll finally be moved out of the ICU and onto our step-down unit soon.”

Michael left after removing the restraints and with a promise that’d he’d get Dean to a more private room by the end of the night. Adam followed suit with an excuse to go grab coffee from the cafeteria, although subtleness was never his strong suit, and he stumbled out of the room with a knowing grin.

“How are you feeling?” Aidan finally broke the silence, a nervousness settling in that he hadn’t felt the entire week until now. 

“Alright,” Dean said honestly. “Not the best. What happened? How long have I been here?”

“You were bit by a katipo when we went to take pictures down on the beach,” Aidan said. Whether it was stress or fatigue or even anxiety from the imminent conversation, he found it hard to look in Dean’s eyes, so he played with the frayed edge of the blanket. “We were stranded from the weather up on the ridge and it took awhile to get you here. They did surgery, you almost died…” He took a shuddering breath. “Your parents came to visit, and most of the cast and crew. They don’t think there’ll be any permanent damage, but you’re gonna have to do rehab for your leg for at least a few weeks.”

Dean shook his head, taking in the information. Days and nights had blended in together, as did flashes of memories. He clearly remembered the pain of the bite and snippets of time up at the Rock and Pillar Range and then again in the chopper. The rest seemed to blur together, though: the moments before his surgery, his parents, the constant presence of Aidan...

His face dropped. “Oh God. I told you stuff. What did I tell you?”

Aidan blushed and ducked his head. “Nothing. Nothing that you have to be embarrassed about.” 

“Oh God. I’m more than embarrassed, I’m mortified. I’m a right idiot,” Dean scrubbed his hand down his face, being careful of his IV. He mumbled more to himself, “I screwed this up, didn’t I?”

The younger man cleared his throat uncomfortably. “No, no… I mean, I understand if you didn’t mean it, you were delirious for heaven’s sake.”

“Aidan,” Dean sensed the other man’s growing apprehension, and he reached through the bedrails to take his hand. When he refused to make eye contact, he tugged his hand, and a moment later, Aidan’s wet eyes met his. “That’s not what I meant. I mean, what I said before… I meant that.” He barked out a laugh, “God, I have really shitty timing, don’t I?”

Aidan let out a shaky breath and he swiped a stray tear away before it could fall. “You scared the ever-living shit out of me, you know that? This has been the worst week of my life.”

Dean wasn’t sure whether he wanted to break down in tears or hide away in his embarrassment. He was almost positive he remembered being exposed in front of his cast mates on more than one occasion, and the fact that Aidan could clearly see the catheter trailing out from under the covers (and that probably wasn’t even the worst he’d seen the past week) just wanted to make him crawl away and never show his face again. He swallowed down the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry.” 

“No, you don’t understand. I was terrified, and you almost died," and then Aidan's face pinched, the effort to say what he needed to looked literally like the world was weighing on his shoulders. "But the worst part was that I never got the chance to tell you that I love you, too… I love you, Dean, and I’m sorry I never said it sooner.”

Feeling overwhelmed and still entirely too weak, Dean squeezed his hand tight with the intention of never letting go.


	10. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... it's been a fun ride, guys. Thank you all who continued to poke and prod until I decided to get my act together to finish this. 
> 
> I have big plans for a just-as-whumpy-if-not-whumpier sequel, and I hope you all are ready for it.

Dean sighed deeply and shifted into a comfier position on the lounge chair on his patio, listening to the rich murmurs of his family filling the air from inside his home. He’d just been released from the hospital the day before under strict orders that he’d take to bed rest unless it was short trips, and only with guidance. His leg was healing, albeit slowly, but he still needed a strict regimen of pain relief, antibiotics, painful dressing changes, and eventually physical therapy to rebuild the muscle. A total of two weeks spent in the hospital had felt like a lifetime to him, and although all he had done was sleep, he was always left feeling incredibly sluggish and tired.

He was just drifting off again when he heard his father’s deep laughter from just inside the screen door, and Aidan’s soft reply.

“Sure, thanks Lance.”

The screen door leading out to the patio slid open, and Dean’s eyes, half-mast, sluggishly opened to see who it was.

Aidan was grinning, his hands full; in one, a plate full of baked chicken, summer squash, and zucchini, and in the other, a tall glass of milk and a bottle of Longboard. Brushing passed his knees, long and lanky Batman squeezed through the door and went right up to Dean. He pushed right into his face, nose cold and wet, and leaving slobbery kisses up his cheeks.

“Hey buddy,” Dean chuckled and patted him just behind his ears. Batman was still getting used to his return home from the hospital. It was very rare to catch him more than a few feet from his owner’s side now, and he was even beginning showing signs of anxiety if Dean left his sight for too long. Now however, after a few moments of kissing and sniffing, he finally settled on the patio by Dean’s feet, facing his master so he could always look up and still see him there. The blond smiled fondly at him, then looked back up to his boyfriend. “And hey you.”

“Hey yourself,” Aidan said and took a seat right next to Dean’s hip. “Getting some fresh air?”

“Mmm,” he replied, closing his eyes again. “Hate being stuck inside all day.”

“Don’t suppose I have to remind you that you should ask for help when walking around?” The brunet said lightly and nudged Dean’s hip. He put his beer and Dean’s milk down on the patio and held out the plate. “I got you some supper and your meds once you’ve eaten.”

But the blond shook his head. “Thanks. Not very hungry.”

“I know you’re not. But you need to have at least something in your stomach before you take your meds. Not to mention all that weight you lost in the hospital.”

Unconsciously, Dean shifted, peaking his eyes open to glare at his boyfriend. “Are you saying I’m too skinny?”

“I would never say such a thing,” Aidan said playfully and leaned down to kiss his pouty lips. Using his free hand, his fingers traced the exposed hip where Dean’s shirt had ridden up, and gooseflesh promptly appeared.

“Aid!”

“But,” he turned serious again. “You do need to eat so you can take your pain medicine. I can tell when you’re hurting.”

Dean’s appetite had become meager at best, mostly due to the nausea from his antibiotics, and after picking through his vegetables, he finally pushed the plate away. Aidan knew it was a losing battle, and he finally relented, handing over the half-dozen tablets Dean was prescribed.

“Thanks,” Dean sighed, and shifted again to try to get more comfortable. After a moment, he patted the space next to him and looked at Aidan with longing eyes. “Stay?”

“Where else would I go?” He replied. “Are you comfortable? Shouldn’t you be elevating your leg?”

Dean grunted disdainfully. “Been doing that all day. Just lay with me?”

Kicking off his thongs and taking one last sip of his beer, Aidan carefully lowered himself next to the smaller man, and within seconds he had pulled Dean to lie comfortably against his chest.

“How’s that?”

“Good. You worry too much,” Dean murmured.

“Well,” he laughed, “You would too if you went through everything we did.”

There was a moment of sobering silence before Dean replied. “You… I.. Thank you. I know I told you before, but I.. can’t begin to explain how much it meant to me- ”

“Dean. You have nothing to thank me for. Everything that’s happened – you would have done the same thing.”

“Of course I would have,” Dean said seriously. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t thank you for it. For the time off you’re taking from filming.. for driving me to my appointments and to get my prescriptions. It’s a lot to ask for.”

He looked down at his leg, swaddled in thick gauze and wrapped in white dressings. A grenade shaped JP drain, filled with a pale red serosanguineous fluid, was still sutured into the wound, but thankfully that part was hidden by the dressings and was pinned safely to the fabric. It made Dean sick to look at, and so he shifted his leg off to the side and turned away.

“You already have thanked me. About ten times,” Aidan said fondly to him, and tapped his nose. “And every time I tell you that I would do it again, in a heartbeat. And for the record, Peter gave me the time off because you and I are in every scene together, and it wouldn’t make much sense to have Kili without his Fili, now would it?”

He leaned down to kiss Dean’s unruly curls, and Dean nuzzled into him a little closer.

“Love you, Aid,” he said quietly, and let out a long, soothed breath.

The sunset was setting lower now, covering the backyard in a soft glow, and a warm breeze brushed over them both. Batman huffed a little at their feet, glancing up to check on them, and content, he settled again. Everything in that moment felt perfect, and Aidan was finally able to truly relax.

“I love you, too, Deano.”


End file.
